A/N: I like angels, devils and smut. And I love Good Omens. Feedback is very very welcome

Summary: "Angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort". Or unless Crowley, that little devil, really wants to make an effort.

Evil deeds

25 July, 2065

It was year 2065. The bartender of the Blue Oyster was having a rather weird night. Two men had come in early in the evening and had ordered every single drink on the list. To the bartender's amazement, they were still sitting firmly on their chairs. He decided not to think about them too much, because the man with the sunglasses gave him the creeps. And the other one... well, he gave the creeps to every straight man on this God's forsaken planet.

Aziraphale looked at the bartender angrily over Crowley's shoulder.

"He is very much in touch with this planet, so as you know," he muttered.

"Wha'?" Crowley mumbled and looked up from his green drink.

"Sorry, I was speaking to myself," Aziraphale said and glanced at his pink drink a bit worriedly. Maybe he really should do something about his... "reputation". Get a tattoo or grow a moustache, possibly. Or get leather pants. They seemed to fit Crowley quite nicely.

"So he was completely human, then," Crowley sighed and Aziraphale had to stop his musings. He nodded sharply and sipped his drink.

"Of course, it was the only way he could live his life. But I still sort of thought, you know, that he'd leave something – " Crowley mumbled

"Adam was human," Aziraphale said and finished his drink. He waved at the bartender who brought a new one. This one had cherries on a stick in it.

"And now he is dead," Crowley said. Only he could use the word dead so that the listener could practically feel flames and hear the chirping of annoying little demons.

"As far as I know, he lead a very good life. He certainly believed in God," Aziraphale said quietly.

"The son of Satan in the Heaven?" Crowley snorted.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"So your folks haven't been in touch with you?" Crowley asked.

"They have," Aziraphale said curtly and swallowed.

"Yeah? Mine too," Crowley said and sighed quietly. They both waved at the bartender who came back with two drinks. Crowley had whisky. Aziraphale's drink was milky white and oddly warm.

"Actually, they are quite happy with me. 'Hundreds of damned souls cursing your name, Crowley', they say. Well, the name of that one program, you know, my soap? 'Scent's of the beautiful neighbourhood'? It's been on air ever since 2010," Crowley explained to his drink. Aziraphale nodded. He had watched the program a few times. It was rather good, he felt.

"My people are rather pleased with me as well. Many have found faith when they have read my book. I send you a copy, didn't I?" Aziraphale said and smiled modestly. The book had sold millions of copies all over the world.

"'Amusing anecdotes of an angel?'. Yeah. That certainly showed another side of heaven for those who thought it as a dull place. I don't recall Patrick tying Gabriel's beard on the gates of Heaven, however," Crowley said.

"Oh, you should have seen that! All the little lambs were laughing their heads off when he swung around and screamed. And once Jesus painted the gates black and made us all dress up as demons. Oh, the look of terror on everybody's face! And how they laughed afterwards!" Aziraphale sighed and smiled.

"Pope didn't like that book, right? Didn't people burn them?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale shrugged.

"The book got people to read Bible and a few hundred souls were saved. They are very happy with me up there," Aziraphale said, but the smile faded. They drank silently for a few minutes.

"They want me to go back."

They said it at the same time and both looked up, surprised. Both opened their mouths and closed them at the same time. Finally Crowley sighed heavily.

"Next week. I just have time to get my things in order. I think they kept me here this long because of Adam. They sort of wanted me to keep an eye on him," Crowley said.

"I suppose you are right. They are going to send some younger angels down here to do 'field work'. They need the practise. I am going to get some fancy job up there. " Archangel's left hand" or "The keeper of the back-door", presumably," Aziraphale sighed.

"Yeah, same here. I'm not going to get Duke of Hell, but maybe an earl or something. Basically I'll just have to torture people," Crowley explained. Aziraphale made a face. He had always found that part of demons' work rather unpleasant and messy

They drank some more.

"So this is it," Aziraphale finally said.


"No more beautiful music, small restaurants and long walks on the beach", Aziraphale sighed, sipping

his drink.

"No more smoky clubs, fast cars or cool clothes," Crowley muttered.

"No more chocolate and tweed," Aziraphale said sadly, shaking his head.

"No more house plants. No more houses, actually," Crowley continued. Aziraphale swallowed.

"No more books," he breathed and sniffed as quietly as possible.

"No more sex," Crawley said, and Aziraphale spilled his drink all over the table, himself and Crowley.

Crowley wiped his hands dry and arched an eyebrow. Aziraphale wiped his mouth with a napkin and tried to hide the terrible blush that was slowly creeping up his face.

"For Satan's sake, Aziraphale, you have been here... well, since from the beginning. Sex was basically the first thing worth mentioning that happened in what's-its-name – "


"Yeah. I mean, you've had all the time in this world to get used to the thing," Crowley said and wiped his thighs clean.

"Yes, well," Aziraphale started and coughed nervously. He moved his class around, drummed his fingers on the table, shifted around a bit and glanced over at Crowley who was still staring at him.

"You... do it then?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley just stared at him and nodded sharply.

"I didn't know demons are allowed... I mean, I am not," Aziraphale stuttered and Crowley actually lifted his sunglasses up for a second and stared at him with a shocked look.

"Well, I suppose it makes sense," Crowley finally said and let his sunglasses to flop back down. Aziraphale decided to keep quiet.

"Sex is after all a really hard subject for most of your people. There's hundreds of stupid rules against sex. And of course demons are encouraged to do it. It causes a lot of trouble for humans," Crowley explained. Aziraphale waved desperately at the bartender.

"Sex is really useful for us, you know. Of course it also caused the biggest blow up of all times – " Crowley went on. Aziraphale tried not to listen.

"You know, a few thousand years ago this little twerp, some stupid imp, went and poked this girl called Maria and WHAM! Suddenly there is this man called Jesus, who has a lot of cool powers."

Aziraphale tried to close his mouth.

"Eep...", he suggested.

"How should we have known that your people had a hand in that business – " Crowley muttered and yawned lazily.

"Jesus was not a demon!" Aziraphale exclaimed.

"Half supernatural... and don't look at me like that, I had nothing to do with that thing," Crowley defended himself.

Aziraphale tried to get over the shock.

"And what evil deeds have you done with your... thing? How many have you doomed to eternal damnation?" he asked and tried to gather as much authoritative power as possible. Crowley looked at him sheepishly.

"Er. Well, I might have had a hand in the Sodoma-business... well, some body part, anyway. And there are a few Christians that burn in Hell because of me," Crowley admitted. Aziraphale gave him a look.

"Well, they choose to do it. Most of them were actually begging for it," Crowley said. Aziraphale pursed his lips and frowned.

"So you have never tried it? Never? Ever?" Crowley asked.

"I've been busy," Aziraphale said sharply. He was sure he had heard something about Sodom, but right now it escaped his mind... It hadn't anything to do with that huge flood, had it? No, the whole city was burned down because of weird and unnatural things, because there were men who... oh. Oh.

Aziraphale felt the blush creeping up again. He was wise enough to understand that some things that were unnatural back then were perfectly acceptable now. Anyway, the Bible was written by old and very much mad men, who came up with very strange and stupid ideas. People mostly went to Hell, because they thought they deserved it, and so many people believed in sin and so many things were sins...

"So," Aziraphale started, and realised that he didn't have no idea what he wanted to say.

"This is how the tables turn," he heard himself saying.

"Sorry?" Crowley asked.

"Well. Everyone thinks I'm the gay one," Aziraphale said and shifted nervously.

"I wouldn't say I'm gay. I'm not human enough to pick sides. I do whoever needs doing," Crowley said.

"How beautifully put," Aziraphale murmured and tried to banish of his head the picture of Crowley 'doing someone who needed doing'.

"For fun I prefer men, though. They are not so squeaky," Crowley finished. Aziraphale had to swallow a nervous giggle.

"Oh well, I suppose I need to stop thinking about it. When I get back Down, I won't even have the parts," Crowley sighed. He snapped his fingers a few times. The barman brought a bill. Crowley looked at the bill, raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers. The barman took the bill away. Crowley stood up, swaying just slightly, and Aziraphale followed him out.

"That wasn't very nice," he said.

"I didn't see you paying your part either," Crowley noted. Aziraphale shrugged. It didn't seem to matter any more. They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"I have always thought that you look quite impressive in your real shape," Aziraphale finally said, glancing at Crowley.

"Well, the wings are okay, and the horns are handy, but have you ever stepped on your tail? With fucking hooves? Damn, it hurts."

"I don't have a tail. I did once get oil in my feathers, though. Most unpleasant experience," Aziraphale sighed.

"And I stink. It's horrid," Crowley said gloomily and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Ah. Yes... the smell. Have you ever tried doing something about the maggots?" Aziraphale asked with genuine curiosity.

"Naah. They are the only way of keeping clean Down There," Crowley muttered.

"Indeed," Aziraphale nodded.

They walked along the street. Crowley was hissing quietly, deep in thought. Aziraphale hummed under his breath for a while.

"Penny for your thoughts," he finally said. Crowley stopped walking and looked at him for a while.

"Would you like to see my place?" he suddenly asked.

Aziraphale was mildly shocked. He had actually never visited Crowley's flat. The demon had always seemed quite happy to meet at Aziraphale's shop. On the other hand, the night was young... and they really didn't have much time together, did they?

"Why not?" Aziraphale said. Crowley nodded and turned right, heading for the better-class road.

Aziraphale had bought his shop before house prizes in Soho had rocketed skywards, but he knew that Crowley had been living in the most snobbish places from the very start. You could probably feed two small countries for three years with the price of his flat by now. Crowley was that sort of per... demon. He liked expensive. Of course it was the main fault in every demon's thinking. They tended to think that impressive was the same as good. Well, evil. Good evil. Anyway, they liked impressive.

"What are you going to do about your shop?" Crowley asked.

"I don't know, really. I might just leave it. Maybe one of the younger angels would like to live there – " Aziraphale said, sighing. It truly was a horrible idea. He loved that shop. He adored every single book in there, and he had spent so many comfortable moments there, alone and with Crowley. Now some idiotic, over-keen angel was going to take over, dusting off the memories and the dust, leaving fingerprints all over his books...

Aziraphale shuddered.

"Through here," Crowley said, placing a hand on the small of his back and leading him through a small park. They arrived on brightly-lit street. Houses were ridiculously big and white.

Crowley's hand was still on Aziraphale's back and it made him twitchy. The demon led him trough a small gate.

They walked in to a tall building and finally, after many stairs, Crowley opened the door to his flat.

Aziraphale looked around. It was... wide and cold. It was also painfully stylish. He walked around, taking in the beautiful sketch of Mona-Lisa and the gorgeous house-plants.

"How do you do that? My plants always die... well, of course I revive them, but still – "Aziraphale asked.

"You need to talk to them," Crowley said solemnly. He was going through his music selection and finally decided on Chopin. Aziraphale nodded happily and wandered off. He peeked into the kitchen. It clearly wasn't used much and neither was the gleaming toilet. However, Crowley's bedroom clearly was used. The demon liked to sleep, he knew, and, well... maybe he used it for other purposes, too.

Aziraphale backed away from the bedroom door and bumped into Crowley.

"Oops," Crawley mumbled and handed him a drink. Aziraphale accepted it with a shaky hand.

"Would you like something to eat? I've got some stuff from Harrods – " Crowley asked and led the way to kitchen. He seemed to hesitate a while and then opened a door to a cupboard full of plates and glasses.

"Where in the Heaven is my refrigerator? " he asked and tried another door. Empty bins.

"You don't eat home very often, do you?" Aziraphale asked and opened a door to the fridge.

"Too much trouble," Crowley said curtly and peeked inside the refrigerator with the look of a pioneer setting his foot on a new land.

Aziraphale pushed him aside and took out some of the most expensive delicatessen sold on Earth. Demons had it good. He wasn't even sure where Crowley got all his money, and didn't really want to know. He was quite sure, though, that Crawley really did pay for all this. He wasn't complete bastard, after all.

Aziraphale saw something glimmering in the back and pulled out a box of the most expensive chocolates ever.

"Oh," he whispered, mouth watering. He stared at the box and put it reverently on the table. There wasn't any chocolate in Heaven. All the really good chocolate makers were also great sinners.

"Goodness. I am going to miss these," Aziraphale sighed and popped one sweet in to his mouth.

"Those and about two thousand other things," Crowley mumbled and sat on a black barstool.

"Yecsch..." Aziraphale said sadly, a little drop of chocolatey brown drool hanging from the side of his mouth.

Crowley opened up some other packages and looked at the contents suspiciously. Then he ate it.

They ate quietly and drank some more. They had drunk a lot that evening, but somehow it hadn't affected them much. The thought of going back had sobered them up quicker than anything. Aziraphale had a feeling that the last drink had been a bit too much, though, and that it would kick in very, very soon.

He had some more.

"It's not just the things I'm gonna miss, y'know? But there's... there's so much I haven't done yet,"

Crowley finally whined. Aziraphale frowned.

"Like what? You've... you've done everything, I think," he mumbled tiredly and waved his hand vaguely. Crowley had flown an aeroplane. He had talked to all sorts of people from Socrates and King Arthur to Da Vinci and so one. He had been a film star. He had...

"Well, like, I've never scuba dived. Or skied. And, and, I've never really stolen anything. Really. And... I've never learned to play nothing – " Crowley started, counting with his fingers.

"I know how to play piano," Aziraphale said.

"Yeah. I mean... there's so much I've never done!" Crowley shouted and swung his arms around wildly.

"You've still got time to do things," Aziraphale tried to comfort.

"One week," Crowley snorted.

"What about me then, hm? You... you've had a really, really exciting life. Me, I've just watched plays and movies and listened to music. I don't even remember when I talked to someone except you," Aziraphale confessed. "Of course I loved doing all those things, but I just sort of wish I had done even something a little bit exciting, like gone hiking or... or... something," he finished lamely.

Crowley tipped over an empty whisky bottle and shakily got up. He returned a few moments later.

"This is exciting," he said and pushed a bottle into Aziraphale's hand.

"Drinking so long that your brains come out through your nose?" Aziraphale mumbled and took the bottle.

"Hey, there's a worm in this bottle!" he said and shook it accusingly.

"Don't worry, it's dead," Crowley muttered and flopped back down on his seat.

"Oh," Aziraphale said quietly.

"Good," he decided and took a long gulp.

"I mean, I mean, I won't have any more time. I'm never going to go scuba diving. I'll never learn to play electric guitar. I'll never, never... I'll never do anything any more," Crowley said, and for a while Aziraphale was sure the demon was going to start bawling.

"And I'll never meet interesting people any more. I'll never get to go hiking. I have always wanted to drive a motorbike and now it's too late," Aziraphale said sadly, watching as the worm floated around, dead.

"You and me, both, mate," he said to it quietly.

"Y'know, y'know, I always, always wanted to be a bat. Just for a while. A really, really big bat. And now I'll never know how it feels – " Crowley mumbled

"And I'll never know what it feels like to have sex," Aziraphale blurted out. Horrified, he put his hand over his mouth. Crowley had gone quiet.

"Er," Aziraphale said.

"Well, that's easy to arrange. You have a whole week to do it," Crowley pointed out.

"What? Just... do it? With some... stranger?" Aziraphale asked and realised right away that it sounded horribly, terrible wrong. He didn't dare to look at Crowley. The demon could have such an annoying grin.

The thing was, Aziraphale was curious. He had been on Earth for over six thousand years and sex was almost the only human thing he hadn't tried. He had eaten, he had slept, he had been angry, happy and everything in between, but...

And he lived in Soho, where he passed shops that advertised very, very strange books, indeed, and where he sometimes walked past a woman or man who offered to do... things. He had watched movies, read books and poetry. It just seemed so important for humans. He wanted to know.

Crowley was once again hissing quietly. During the centuries, Aziraphale had gotten used to it, and now thought it as a rather endearing habit.

"You know, it's one of the big three. Be born, have sex, die. We can't do the other two, but it's something we can try. Don't know about you, but I try to understand humans," Crowley said.

"Yes. Learning to understand is... was part of the job description," Aziraphale said.

"So if you did it, you could take back even more knowledge," Crawley pointed out. Aziraphale nodded.

"But... I can't just... I mean, I'm not actually, er. I just can't pick someone up and be done with it. I mean... don't they usually do it with someone they know?" Aziraphale stuttered, becoming more and more flustered.

"Well, these days... not really. You could just go to a club and – " Crowley said and Aziraphale shook his head frantically.

"Of course, if you don't necessarily want to do it with a woman, I can... offer you my services," Crowley said and smirked at Aziraphale's shocked look.

"Um. You are not a human, so it wouldn't really be the same thing", Aziraphale tried to back out.

"True enough, but I am human shaped. And you know me. And we don't hate each other very much," Crowley said.

Aziraphale wrung his hands worriedly. The night had taken a turn he hadn't expected and he didn't like it very much.

"Yes. Well. But," Aziraphale said elegantly and almost screamed when Crowley suddenly jumped up and pulled him out of the chair.

"You're a demon! Doesn't that automatically mean that what you are doing is not right? So I can't, can I?" Aziraphale shrieked and tried to pull his hand back.

"You are an angel. If you do it, doesn't it automatically mean that you are doing the right thing?" Crowley mocked. Aziraphale had a distinct feeling that they had been through this many times before.

They stood still for quite some time, facing each other. Finally Crowley flopped down again.

"Fine. I was just trying to help," he huffed. Aziraphale shifted his legs.

"It's not that I don't want to, I just don't think I should," he finally said and realised that it was really true. Not only did he want to know what it felt like, but also he wanted Crowley.

It wasn't unheard of. Sometimes two angels would start spending more and more time together and sooner or later they would start... well, having sex in an angel way, which was quite complicated, slightly boring and very clean. But that only happened in Heaven. And never with demons. Because of course demons could never love.

Crowley had been an angel once, but Aziraphale tried not to think about it. And he certainly didn't love Crowley. Goodness gracious, oh my, dear me, never could that happen.

He was just curious. Angels were created curious. And Crowley had always been there when he needed him. And the demon was even more curious than him, although in a slightly harmful way.

"I don't think I'm drunk enough for it", Aziraphale said shakily. Crowley wordlessly handed him the bottle. Aziraphale drank some more.

"Is it exciting?" he asked.

"Very," Crowley said.

"Fine. But you take your glasses off," Aziraphale demanded. Crowley hesitated.

"Are you sure? I mean... my eyes are not very human, you know," he said.

"Yes. I know."

"So it won't bother you to... well, you know what they look like," Crowley said, lifting his hand up very


"Yes," Aziraphale said patiently. Crowley took his sunglasses off, put them carefully on the table and

looked at Aziraphale nervously.

"So what now?" Aziraphale asked and tried to sound calm and collected. He didn't quite manage it.

"Well, could we take this to the bedroom?" Crowley asked, gesturing towards the closed door. Aziraphale shrugged and swallowed heavily before following the demon in to the bedroom.

Crowley turned the lights on and closed the door quietly. Aziraphale inched towards the bed and carefully sat on the edge, crossing his legs. Crowley grinned at him impishly.

Aziraphale petted nervously the soft duvet and stared at his shoes. They were abnormally shiny. He didn't really have much to do these days, did he? But still, there is something wrong with a man that polishes his shoes twice a day –

"Where did you go, angel?" Crowley asked quietly. It sounded absolutely ridiculous and Aziraphale chuckled despite himself. He glanced at Crowley and looked away quickly.

"When did you get naked, demon?" he mumbled and flushed again.

Aziraphale had seen a lot of art, both good and not so good. He had seen hundreds of naked humans, both men and women. None of the beautiful paintings or actual humans had caused this sort of nervous excitement. He stole another quick glance.

Crowley was lean, smooth and hairless. Aziraphale let his eyes dip lower. Nearly hairless.

Angles were given bodies, but demons got to choose. And Crowley had obviously put quite a lot of time to it, choosing the most beautiful body parts available. He could have been a statue, a praise to male nudity, yet he was alive, moving... and warm, too, as Aziraphale noted when Crowley took his hand and pulled him up.

Crowley seemed to hesitate for a moment and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips on Aziraphale's.

This wasn't unfamiliar for Aziraphale. He had tried it for a few times and had found the whole thing to be nauseatingly wet and unhygienic. But then again, when he had done it, he hadn't had Crowley's slim body pressed against him, Crowley's arm circling his waist or Crowley's slowly hardening... doom-tool pressing against his leg.

When they stopped Aziraphale was out of breath and slightly disoriented. Crowley held him close for a while and then let him go. Aziraphale sat heavily on the bed and watched quietly as Crowley got on his knees. The demon brought his hands up to Aziraphale's thighs and gently pushed them apart.

"Don't I do anything for you?" Crowley asked, touching gently Aziraphale's crotch.

"Ah, well, about that..." Aziraphale tried.

"Well, I think I can get you to – " Crowley started and pulled Aziraphale's pants down despite the angel's frantic twisting.

Crowley stopped and stared with his mouth open.

"Aziraphale? You… you don't have a cock... or bollocks" he pointed out, rather stupidly. Aziraphale snorted hysterically.

"What have you done to it?" Crowley asked and leaned back, still staring at the perfect smoothness between the angel's legs.

"Well, I had it when I first became a human, but it… I wished it away after a few weeks", Aziraphale explained quietly.


"It got hard and soft and I couldn't really control it – "

"For fuck's sake, Aziraphale! I learned to control it in a few days! And it has been my faithful

companion ever since," Crowley snorted, smiling crookedly.

"I never saw the point of it," Aziraphale huffed, crossing his arms. He didn't cross his legs, though. Crowley's hands were still on his thighs, pushing them open.

"Well, you need it now!" Crowley said and leaned forward a bit, closing his eyes.

"Hey!" Aziraphale shouted.

"Hush, let me do it. Do you want a big one?"

"How should I know?" Aziraphale asked and looked nervously down at Crowley's yellow eyes.

"Big? Huge? Enormous?"

"Can I have the same size as yours?"

"Enormous, then," Crowley said and chuckled. He pressed his hand gently against the angel's crotch, face scrunched up in concentration. Soon Aziraphale could feel his body moulding, blood rushing downwards, a new hot pressure somewhere between his legs. He risked a glance.

For a while, they both stared silently at the new member, Aziraphale with horror and Crowley with smugness.

"And in perfect working order, too. Not just a decoration," Crowley said happily and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Aziraphale gasped and gave a little shudder. Crowley looked at him and arched an eyebrow.

"Nice?" he asked.

"Alright, I suppose," the angel admitted and leaned back on his elbows.

"It gets better," Crowley promised, dived and wrapped his warm lips around the new hardness.

Aziraphale cried out and arched towards the hot wetness.

"Oh God," Aziraphale let out, blushed and pressed his hand on his mouth. Crowley lift his head and opened his mouth, that wet, wet, glistening, deep mouth.

"Don't say it!" Aziraphale managed to get out through the odd haze in his head.

"Say what?"

"That lame joke you were going to make about demons and gods and such. Just please get back to… to what you were doing," the angel asked.

"Spoilsport," Crowley muttered but leaned back down anyway.

(Deleted scene. Please see my homepage for the full version)

About half an hour later Aziraphale finally sat up. He stared at the room for a few moments and then stood up and gathered his clothes. He quickly pulled them on. Crowley sat up, as well, and looked at him, his face expressionless.

Aziraphale had made all of the alcohol to leave his system. Memories of the pleasure still lingered, but they weren't strong enough to banish the quilt. What was he thinking? He was going back! If the other angles got a whiff of this, he would never live it down. And what would God say? There must be some rules against fucking demons.

"You could always explain it away as a salvation attempt," Crowley suggested and smiled at his surprised look.

"Thank you, but I don't think God looks kindly upon sex being used as a method of salvation. It is more used by your side," Aziraphale sighed and smiled back at the demon.

The silence grew awkward and finally Aziraphale matted his hair down with shaking hands.

"I think it is better if I leave. Could you give me a lift home?" he asked and winced when he heard the tremor in his voice. Crowley just nodded and threw his clothes on.

They left the apartment in silence and it followed them into the car. Soon they were driving along the almost empty streets of London.

They were a few turns away from Aziraphale's cosy shop, when something went 'biip' in Aziraphale's pocket.

"I didn't know you had a mobile," Crowley said slightly disappointedly. Aziraphale could feel all the blood draining from his face.

"I don't, really. Only the one I use for work," Aziraphale whispered and the car screeched to halt. Crowley stared at him as he fished out his mobile and answered. The civilized voice of Metatron filled the car and Aziraphale could see the demon rolling his eyes.

"Aziraphale," it said.

"Yes," Aziraphale answered meekly.

"You do realise we are aware of our every action?" the voice continued.


"And your every feeling?"

Aziraphale blushed.


"What you just did is unheard of," the Metatron announced and it actually sounded quite befuddled.

"Er... a salvation attempt?" Aziraphale tried nevertheless.

"We do not want to hear your weak explanations. We have spoken to the angels and most of them want your wings to be cut," Metatron continued and Aziraphale's heart seemed to stop.

"However, God in His great mercy has decided against it."

Aziraphale nearly fainted in relief.

"But you are tarnished. You are an angel and yet a sinner... we can't take you back, there is no place for you in here or in Hell. You will stay on Earth until it comes to an end," Metatron declared and then the voice was gone.

Aziraphale stared at his mobile phone. He knew he should feel horrified and disappointed, and somewhere deep inside, he did. However, his foremost feeling was relief and joy followed closely behind. He was still an angel and...

"The world is your oyster," Crowley said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Yes," Aziraphale said. Crowley nodded.

"Good one for you," he said lightly and turned the radio on.

"Yo, all u hos, raise your hands, yo, I said, hos CROWLEY!"'

Aziraphale nearly swallowed his tongue and Crowley jumped a feet up.

"Yes?" he asked and looked at Aziraphale with shining eyes.


"Y-yes," Crowley admitted.


"Great," Crowley muttered. Aziraphale was blushing again.


"And when will that be?" Crowley asked with dread.

"TOMORROW. WE CAN'T WAIT! hos, hos, listen to your daddy, 'cause daddy has a big sausage filled with salty garlic butter, ho, yeah...

Aziraphale quickly turned the radio off. Crowley was staring straight ahead.

"Crowley – " Aziraphale started, but the demon pressed his foot down and the car leapt forward again.

"I'm sure you get used to it soon again," Aziraphale finally said as they reached his shop.

"Yeah, of course," Crowley just answered. They fell silent. After a few awkward minutes the demon started hissing again and Aziraphale suddenly realised it was the last time he would hear the sound before the Apocalypse. He sighed heavily.

They sat silently a while longer. Crowley was leaning closer to him for some reason, so Aziraphale took it as a sign to leave and grasped the door handle.

"This is it, then," he said and opened the door. Crowley nodded sharply but kept looking at him expectantly. Aziraphale hesitated.

"Well, goodbye," he said. Cowley nodded again, but didn't budge and Aziraphale couldn't understand what he was waiting for. He got off the car.

"It was nice to get to know you," Aziraphale said. Crowley smiled bitterly.

"Yeah, same here. Goodbye, Aziraphale," he said, and Aziraphale slammed the door shut.

In a few seconds the car had driven off. Aziraphale stared after it for a minute and then opened his door. He had an odd feeling he had done something wrong.

18 August, 2065

Aziraphale put the kettle on, humming quietly under his breath. Nowadays he only made one cup of tea at a time even if he wanted to drink two cups. It took some minutes for the water to boil, which meant that for a few, precious moments Aziraphale had something to look forward to.

He still polished his shoes twice a day. He dusted his shop every morning. He ironed his socks. He had nothing to do.

Of course he still read. He loved reading. But after a few weeks of constant reading you grow bored with the dusty company of fictive characters.

Aziraphale had seen all the new shows in London, as well. He had never had enough money to visit them all, but now he had, because...

(because Crowley had, funnily enough, made a will. Crowley had left all his belongings to Aziraphale. Dear god, the demon had been rich! And Aziraphale hadn't even sold the apartment yet. The lawyer had said that he hadn't been aware his client had any friends or family, and for some reason Aziraphale had blushed. He could still remember the annoying grin on the stupid lawyers face... as if he had thought that...)

Anyway, Aziraphale had even gone too see a few movies. He had watched hours and hours of television, just to make the time pass. It was odd, the day still held as much hours as it did before, but somehow it was much, much longer...

(because he couldn't share anything with anyone. Before, he had known that he could speak to Crowley about everything he had seen. Aziraphale had realised that before he had always planned how to describe everything to Crowley. He would sit and watch the most perfect play ever, and in his mind he would make little notes like 'must tell Crowley' and 'he would have liked this' or 'then I'll say this and that and he will laugh and...' Whom could he talk now? To the milkman?)

" 'God in His great mercy', indeed," Aziraphale sighed and sipped his tea. He would stay on this God's forsaken planet for aeons and aeons and if he ever dared to get close to some human, they would die and he could just watch and suffer. Is this what his eternity would be like? Making tea and hoping another minute to pass?

This was ridiculous! The world was full off interesting things and places and he had, literally, all the time in the world to get to know them. He should have been ecstatic!

But what was the point, when there was no one to share these experiences with him?

(...when there was no Crowley to share these experiences with him?)

And why in the God's name had everything turned grey and miserable just because...

(... because Crowley wasn't here? And why, why did the demon creep back into his thoughts all the time? You would expect an angel to know how to get rid of unwanted thoughts, wouldn't you? The only problem was, demons were famous for planting unwanted thoughts into others' minds.)

Aziraphale sighed again and briefly pressed his hand against his forehead. This couldn't go on like this. He wandered into the living room and switched the television on. He flopped down onto his comfy sofa and let the moving pictures numb his mind.

He watched some pointless talkshow. He watched a sitcom. He watched some adverts. The only amusement he got was from the news.

"... and traffic is terrible on M25. Hundreds of cars are stuck there, whole traffic has been jammed for three hours now. There has been a collision of a truck and a van. Amazingly, no one was hurt, but..."

The camera zoomed closer to the scene. Tens of raging passengers were yelling at weary police officers, who were staring at a huge mass off something pink and fluffy, which covered about 20 feet of the road.

"...yes, it seems that the truck was carrying marshmallows. It started burning and here's the result. Police is unable to get rid of the mess. Three officers have already got stuck into the sticky mess..."

Aziraphale chuckled quietly. That was something Crowley would have loved to do or see. Something harmful, irritating and stupid, but not reallyevil.The demon had never been capable of any real evilness, and more than once Aziraphale had seen Crowley being quite shaken by the evil in humans. It had been... well, adorable. Sometimes Aziraphale even had a sneaking suspicion he was more cynical and pessimistic of them two.

He was thinking about Crowley again. How selfish it was for an angel to wish for a sudden Armageddon? Aziraphale shook his head and turned his attention back to the news.

"...and speaking of traffic, there has been rather strange things happening in London, as well. Only ten minutes ago a black Bentley was seen driving along Oxford Street 90 miles per hour. All the attempts to stop the driver failed..."

Aziraphale forgot to breathe. He stood up shakily.

"I said to him you can't do 90 mph on the Oxford Street," he whispered and walked quickly to the door.

Aziraphale opened the door just when Crowley was about to knock. The demon was all there: black clothes, black boots, black sunglasses, black Bentley on the side of the road and a surprised, adorable little hiss, so Aziraphale leaned forward and did what he should have done when they were saying goodbyes. No, what he should have done ages ago.

He leaned back a few minutes later, flushed and panting.

"Woah, if I had known that was waiting for me, I wouldn't have stopped to mess with the marshmallow truck," Crowley breathed, eyes wide. Aziraphale grasped his hand and tugged him inside.

"The last time I saw you, you were going to Hell," Aziraphale finally said when they were both seated in the kitchen.

"Yeah, went there, came back," Crowley said casually and leaned back. He hesitated just a moment and took off his sunglasses.

"I never knew you could come back. Dante was just an exception," Aziraphale wondered, and the demon shrugged.

"Well, they just realised I was more useful in here," he said without quite meeting the angle's eyes.

Aziraphale got up and put the kettle on, for two cups this time.

"Is that so?" he asked.


"So there's nothing more to it?" he asked, glancing at Crowley.

"Well, they said I had gone a bit too native. Too human. I was hungry all the time and I even fell asleep by the tar pit once..." Crowley explained. Aziraphale laughed quietly.

"Is that all? But surely you quickly got used to your real form again," he said.

Crowley was silent for a long while. Aziraphale buttered teacakes and waited.

"Yeah, in a few weeks," Crowley finally admitted. "But there was other human stuff too..."

"Like what?" Aziraphale asked. He could hear the demon squirming on his seat.

"Like... feelings. Anger. Very good for demons, though, anger... sorrow. Bitterness. Longing... Stuff like that."

"Oh," Aziraphale commented and carefully picked up the kettle.

"And love," Crowley blurted out. Aziraphale splashed tea all over the table.

"Well, I can see that can be a bit of a fail in a demon", he said lightly after a few seconds of silent but fervent panicking, still not facing Crowley. He sensed that the demon had gotten up.

"True. They wanted to... do very unpleasant things to me, but since I'm the only one who really knows how things work up here – "

"...you got sent back," Aziraphale finished for him and smiled.

"Yeah. Until the end of the days, funnily enough. Don't know how I'm going to make the time pass," Crowley drawled.

Aziraphale prepared the tea tray quietly and chewed on his lip for a while. Finally he drew a deep breath.

"You know, those... things you gave me? My co... the things? I – I kept them," he said quietly.

Suddenly he felt Crowley's lean body pressing against him from behind, an arm encircling his waist and the demons lips touching softly his earlobe.

"I think we can find some use for them. After all, we have all the time in the world," Crowley whispered and Aziraphale could feel him smiling.